Complications
by Brownish
Summary: Harry Dresden's luck holds true, and Corpsetaker picks a more convenient body to hijack. AU, beginning at the climax of Dead Beat.
1. Chapter 1

I ran around the corner, and spent a moment staring at the display of martial skill in front of me. Corpsetaker and Captain Luccio were fighting, their blades blurs of steel in the shadows. It was so fast, so closely matched, that I had no idea how to help Luccio without getting her killed. I raised my .44 and hoped for a clear shot, but there was a flicker of lightning and Corpsetaker saw me over Luccio's shoulder. Something lit her eyes, a gleam of calculation, and she swung in with a particularly brutal slash. It forced Luccio to turn slightly, and now the Captain was between me and Corpsetaker. I snarled in frustration.

Luccio heard me, I was certain of it; she began to wheel Corpsetaker back, slowly driving the necromancer around so they were side-on to me. I took aim again, and as I did Corpsetaker batted Luccio's sword away and sprang at me. I fired even as I threw myself to the ground, the bullet taking her in the stomach as her tulwar scraped across the right shoulder of my duster. Even with the magical reinforcements, pain welled up in my shoulder. No time to moan about it. I pushed against the ground with my left hand, and rose into a sitting position. Corpsetaker was was lying on her back beside me, one hand reaching towards me. I wrapped my left hand around my right wrist, and jerked the .44 around to aim at Corpsetaker's cute, dimpled face. As my finger tightened on the trigger, Corpsetaker's hand brushed my knee.

Suddenly I was falling, spinning through a dark tunnel. I could feel something slipping away from me, a chill creeping over me, and I knew that I was dying. Was this Corpsetaker's death curse? Then I slammed into something, an abrupt wall of sensation. I could feel my body again. And it _hurt_. There was a stabbing pain in my gut, and I could feel something warm and wet seeping over my stomach. I lifted my head from the ground – had the curse made me fall over? – and looked down my body at the wound. There was a ragged hole in my stomach, ugly and agonising.

More importantly, I had breasts.

I looked up, and saw myself standing over me, wearing a look of cruel amusement that made me feel ill. Shock and impotent fury washed through me, mastering the pain for a short instant. Corpsetaker had let me shoot her, then stolen my body! I watched myself bend over to pick up the .44, and tried to say something, tried to warn Luccio. I couldn't.

"Finish her, Dresden," said a voice somewhere behind me. "Time runs away from us."

"Of course, Captain," my own voice said, and I saw the corner of my mouth curl upwards. Corpsetaker swung the .44 down to aim at my new chest. I tried to gather my will, tried to say something, but I couldn't concentrate around the white-hot pain gnawing at my belly.

_My host, let me assist you!_ A feminine voice murmured in my ear. _Or your beloved city will perish._

_You're still here? _I asked her.

_Until you take up the coin. _She replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

_What can you do?_ I snarled in response. _I suppose you want me to call the coin?_ Corpsetaker was moving far too slowly, and I realised Lasciel was altering my perceptions.

_Allow me access to your magic, and I can heal your wound,_ Lasciel whispered in my ear. _My original self need not be involved._

The gun was slowly tracking towards my face. The muzzle seemed huge and dark. Portentous. If I let Corpsetaker get the drop on Luccio, half the Wardens here would be down, and Chicago would be screwed. I had a shot at stopping that. And what was one more compromise with my darker self? _Fine,_ I snapped inside my head. _Heal me._

_It will hurt,_ Lasciel murmured.

I was going to make a witty retort about how the bullet wound didn't exactly sting, but then Lasciel reached through my mind and into my magic. I could feel her weave something in the blink of an eye, a complex binding that hummed with dark power. It wrapped around my stomach, and I squeezed my eyes shut as my whole body exploded with pain. Before I could scream, the pain vanished – including the pain in my abdomen. I felt fine. I opened my eyes and sat up, grabbing my old hand and wrenching the .44 to the side.

"Luccio!" I shouted, and tried not to flinch at my lovely contralto voice. "I'm Dresden! Corpsetaker stole my body after I shot her!"

Corpsetaker snarled and kicked me in the ribs, pushing me away from my old body and breaking my grip on the necromancer's wrist. She – he now – raised the gun to fire over me, presumably at Luccio. I twisted my supine body, slamming my foot into Corpsetaker's knee. He twisted with the blow as he fired, and before he could recover a needle of flame shot over me and through his head, turning it into a charred mess. I watched my own body crumple to the ground. I'd always expected to die violently, but I'd never thought I'd see it from the outside.

Luccio leaned in over me, grabbing my cheeks and staring directly into my eyes. Right. Soulgaze, to make sure this was me. Good thinking. I fell into the Captain's eyes. _She walked through the centre of a battle, and enemies fell before her. Their blows rebounded from her armour, a hogepodge of metal plates that seemed effective nonetheless. As I watched, a lucky blow slipped through a gap and drew blood. Luccio knocked the blade away and ran her enemy through, then reached down and snapped off a piece of the fallen man's armour. She rubbed it in her blood, then placed it over the wound; it stayed there, now just another part of her armour. Luccio walked on. _

My vision cleared, and Luccio was still kneeling above me, her gaze sharp. "Come on, Dresden," she said. "I need to get you to the safe house."

I frowned. _Lasciel,_ I said inside my head. _How long will this binding last?_

_As long as you require it, _a voice murmured in my ear, accompanied by the sensation of lips against the back of my neck. _However, the longer it remains, the more it draws upon your life force. I would not advise its use for more than a few hours_.

_This thing is eating my soul?_ I thought furiously as I clambered to me feet, clumsy in a body that was smaller and slighter than I remembered being.

_Nibbling, my host,_ the fallen angel said with a chuckle. _Nothing permanent._

_Funny. Now shoo._

_I live to serve, _Lasciel said, and faded from my awareness.

"Walk with me, Dresden," Luccio said impatiently. I realised she had my arm slung over my shoulder, and straightened my back.

"I'm fine," I said, and pulled away from her to look down at my body. I bent down, took my mother's pentacle amulet and slung it around my own neck. I stripped the rings off my fingers, the shield bracelet from my wrist, and finally pulled the revolver from my cold, dead hand. "This is so weird," I murmured, and winced at the sound of my voice. I sounded…girlish. I contemplated my duster, then realised it would get under my feet. Tripping in the middle of magical combat was a no-no. I sighed.

"Dresden, what are you doing?" Luccio asked.

I shrugged, and turned to face her. "I'm doing the job you asked me to do." I stuck the revolver in the pocket of my form-fitting jeans.

"You have a stomach wound, how can you possibly—" Luccio broke off, staring at my stomach. "Dresden, what have you done to yourself? Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "Now is not the time. Can you fight?"

"Yep." I leaned down again, and pulled the duster off my corpse. "Can you, uh, burn my body? I don't want my friends thinking I'm dead, before I get a chance to…uh…"

Luccio flicked a hand, and flames consumed my body. It was ash in moments. I stared at it for a long second, and threw the duster behind a bush to pick up later.

"We need to move," Luccio said quietly.

"Right. Vortex of necromantic energy about to consume central Chicago." I looked around. "Where's Morgan and Ramirez?"

"Here," Morgan rumbled from behind me. I turned, and he had his broadsword in hand, ready to swing at me from behind. Ramirez was there as well, his Glock aimed at my centre of mass. "Captain?" Morgan asked.

"It's Dresden," she said briskly. "Corpsetaker let him shoot her, then stole his body. I turned her to ash. We must move; the spell is reaching its end."

"Hurm. My condolences, Dresden," Morgan said, and sheathed his broadsword. Was that a gleam of savage amusement in his eyes? "Get to the apartment building; I sent your assistant there as well."

"Uh-uh," I said, disagreeing with Morgan almost on reflex. I pulled my thoughts together. "You need me to control Sue. I've got my gut wound on hold for the time being, so let's saddle up." Morgan frowned, and Ramirez raised an eyebrow, but Luccio had my back.

"Dresden is correct. We need the…dinosaur.." Even the Captain of Wardens tripped over saying that a little, I realised with weary satisfaction. "To reach the centre of the storm. Let us go." Luccio leaned towards me, and spoke again more quietly. "We will discuss the nature of this binding at a later time, Warden."

A minute later, I was riding a dinosaur once more, with the others clinging to the makeshift harness and saddle behind me.

"I'm going to swing around, take them from the rear," I shouted over the wind.

"Once we reach the central point," Luccio shouted back. "Morgan and I will disembark and engage them from the ground. Ramirez, you give covering fire and shield Dresden. Dresden, do your best to keep the undead occupied. Remember, our primary goal is to prevent them from drawing down the vortex. Kill them if you can, but we need only distract them until the spell ends."

"Gotcha," I yelled back. Morgan nodded grimly, and Ramirez reached over Sue's spine to give Luccio a thumbs-up. "So we've got Grevane, Cowl, and Cowl's apprentice Kumori. Grevane's pretty good with a chain, and Cowl's really strong – like, Senior Council strong."

"His apprentice?" Morgan asked.

"No idea," I said honestly. "But she brought someone back to life a few days ago; she might still be drained." Sue pounded around the final corner. "Here we go…uh."

A crowd of zombies stretched out before us. They weren't the recently dead walking corpses that I'd been fighting over the past few days; these were ancient bodies, filled with dark power. Most of them looked Native American. These zombies would be faster, stronger, harder to kill than normal. And there were dozens of them. I took a deep breath, and directed my will at Sue. My steed roared, a primal challenge that was wasted on the undead, and charged forward. I heard a shout from somewhere ahead, and the zombies surged forward.

The zombies were strong, but weren't thirteen feet high, and they didn't weigh seven tons. Sue ploughed through them on momentum along, scattering them like tenpins. A couple managed to sink their arms into her flesh and begin tearing, but the Wardens behind me disposed of them with needles of flame and bursts of green energy. Working with a team was kind of cool. Sue burst through the final rank of zombies, one clawed foot splintering a picnic table as she entered the clear space beneath the vortex. I willed Sue to a halt, and Luccio and Morgan released their grips on the harness and slid to the ground.

Squinting into the darkness, I saw Grevane charge Morgan and Luccio, swinging a chain.

"Dresden, the zombies?" Ramirez said behind me. Grevane zombies were moving again, swarming towards the picnic tables to distract Morgan and Luccio.

"Right!" I wheeled Sue, and her tail cut a swath through the zombies as she shifted around; I tried to ignore the fact that my centre of gravity was different. I urged Sue forward on an angle, her head dipping to bite and tear at the zombies to the side as I guided her in a circle around the fight. Grevane had some kind of animated shadow around him, both shielding him and spinning outwards to snap at his opponents. Ramirez was throwing jets of green light which disintegrated zombies where they struck, blowing holes in their ranks and preventing them from choking Sue with numbers.

A zombie leapt from the ground and slammed its hands into Sue's flesh, sinking in up to its forearms. I gathered my will, and funneled my dread and helpless nausea at the loss of my own body into a spell.

"_Forzare!_" I snarled, thrusting my right hand down at the zombie. A burst of force slammed into the creature's head, but wasn't strong enough to knock it away. A couple of days ago, I had used that incantation to flip a car. A streak of green light shot past me and turned the zombie's upper half to dust, and the lower half fell back to the ground. I carefully didn't look back at Ramirez.

I risked a glance at the fight amongst the picnic tables as I wheeled Sue through another circle. Grevane was on the defensive, using his animated shadow to defend against Morgan's blows as he parried Luccio's blows with a length of chain. As I watched, Morgan managed to pierce the shadow with his broadsword. Grevane twisted in pain, allowing Luccio to slide her rapier past his chain and through Grevane's throat. Morgan immediately whipped his sword around and beheaded Grevane; apparently he wasn't taking any chances. There was a tiny moment where both Morgan and Luccio paused, as if waiting for Grevane's body to move.

That was when a blast of flame seared through the air towards them, white-hot and suffocating. Morgan saw it coming and raised a shield, curving it around both himself and Luccio. The blast struck the shield, illuminating its surface in pearly light as more and more flame rushed towards Morgan and Luccio and pooled around the sides of the shield. After a long moment, the stream of flame ended, leaving Morgan on his knees panting. Luccio raised her own shield, turning and throwing out a wide, unfocused blast of force in the direction the stream of flame had come from. Something glittered on the ground around her, and I realised the blast had turned some of the ground to glass.

"Holy shit," said Ramirez behind me.

"Yeah," I agreed, glancing around the area. Grevane's zombies were standing stock still, apparently not the homicidal variety now that there was no will controlling them. I nudged Sue to keep moving, rather than be a standing target, as I thought. With Grevane and Corpsetaker dead, the attacker had to be either Cowl or Kumori. "Watch out for the other one," I called over my shoulder as Luccio and probably-Cowl traded blows of the kind that would blow right through my best shield. "They're pretty good at veils."

There was a _thump_ from behind me, and the sound of something sliding. I went to turn around, but felt something cold and sharp against my throat and went very still.

"Indeed," Kumori said in my ear, reminding me uncomfortably of Lasciel. "It is an area in which I excel."

"The other being the quest for the Philosopher's Stone? No, wait, you're trying to get immortality using death magic." I said.

Kumori made an irritated noise. "Guide this steed towards the two Wardens, or I will kill you." I sent my will down into Sue, and she stopped in place and began to turn towards Luccio and the prostrate Morgan – as slowly as I could make her. "At first we were bewildered to see the Corpsetaker making common cause with the White Council," Kumori went on calmly. "But then I noticed your accoutrements, and deduced what had happened. I assume Corpsetaker's favourite trick failed to convince the Wardens?"

"Pretty much," I said. I definitely wasn't going to mention Lasciel's helping hand. "Morgan and Luccio are the baddest of the bad; your boy Cowl's going to get his ass handed to him."

"Perhaps. Charge the dinosaur at them at full speed." The knife dug into my neck slightly to emphasise the command.

"Aye aye, cap'n," I said, and willed Sue to run – quickly, but not quite ramming speed. "Enjoy the ride." And at my command, Sue threw her weight to the right as I leaned left, leaving Kumori unbalanced and the knife a few inches from my throat. I rolled over Sue's back to the left, throwing up a hasty shield around as I slid down the pebbled skin and hit the ground. As the impact drove the breath from my lungs through my weakened shield, Sue continued to lean to the right. A living creature would never had done it, but Sue was not alive and was forced to obey my will. I lifted my head from the dirt, and saw the dinosaur's massive figure silhouetted against the whirling vortex in the sky. The massive profile began to grow smaller as Sue lost her balance and fell onto her side.

Seven tons of reanimated tyrannosaurus made quite a thump, massive _whoomp_ that shook the earth beneath me and sent dirt flying into the air. Something lit the area, a bolt of lightning thrown by Luccio at Cowl, or possibly the other way around. As the sudden flash of light died, I pushed at the ground and struggled to my feet. I stood up, and I wasn't as tall as I should have been. Pushing through the disorientation, I willed Sue to stop kicking and ran around the other side of the dinosaur to look for Kumori, drawing my .44 from my hip-hugging (_hell's bells, I had hips_) jeans. Kumori was nowhere to be seen, which I didn't find vastly surprising. Working from years of horror movies at the drive-in, I counted to three slowly, and then spun and dropped to one knee to aim the revolver at whatever had been behind me.

"Well done," Kumori said from behind me. I spun again, trying not to get dizzy, but she was staring up at the vortex. It was only a few feet above our heads. "The circle has grown too unstable for my master to engulf it. You have won – in a sense."

"That's it?" I said in disbelief. "You people come to my city, kill people, cause mass panic and _that's it?_"

"Defeat was always a possibility," she said, her cloaked shoulders moving in what might have been a shrug. "Goodbye, Harry Dresden. I hope you do not come to regret the price you have paid tonight." Kumori waved a hand, and a rift opened behind her. She stepped backwards without looking, into the patch of summer light visible through the rift into the Nevernever. "Do not meddle again, Dresden. I imagine my master already regrets allowing you to live." And the rift closed.

Above me the vortex was whirling faster, a screaming ghost or looming spectre occasionally glimpsed through the dark clouds and sporadic lightning.

"Dresden! Ramirez!" I heard Luccio yell. "Shield yourselves!" Oh, shit. Ramirez. I called light to my amulet and held it above my head – a whole five feet five – to look for him. There was a grey-cloaked figure groaning on the ground, fifty feet away. Too far to run to him before the vortex discharged itself.

"Carlos!" I shouted, so loud it tore at my throat. "Shields!" The figure didn't move, didn't raise a barrier. "Empty night, Harr_iet_, this is a really bad idea," I said to myself. I started running towards Ramirez, focusing my will as I did. "_Forzare!_" I screamed in desperation, summoning a minor blast of force that flipped Ramirez off the ground and sent him spinning through the air in my general direction. I ducked to the side to catch him, and pushed every drop of strength I had left into my shield bracelet to raise the strongest barrier I could. Ramirez's weight drove me to the ground, there was an unearthly shriek, and the vortex earthed itself. The world went black.

**Awake, wizard,** a voice said to me, echoing inside my head. A tide of energy rolled through me, leaving me awake and energetic. I opened my eyes, and shoved Ramirez's snoring head off my chest. The Erlking, source of the voice – and the energy, for some reason – stood over me. **You raised a mighty hunter this night,**__the Erlking said without speaking. **Worthy to share this night with the Wild Hunt. **

"It was pretty neat," I said with a grin. "Are you going to kill me?"

The Erlking didn't answer right away; he turned his head, as though staring into the distance. **I can feel the hunt beginning,** he said after a moment. **The master has released the hounds, and they bay. Oh, how they bay, little wizard.** The Erlking reached up to his helm, snapped off the tip of one horn and tossed it to me. **A token of my regard. I shall not slay thee this night, wizard. When you are worthy prey once more, look for me. **

"Great," I said under my breath. "I'll look forward to that." The Erlking inclined his head, then turned and strode away from me. A bolt of green lightning hissed down from the sky to strike him, and then he was gone. I looked around. The Wardens – the _other_ Wardens, I amended – were still out cold, and Grevane's zombies were still just standing around. Perfect. I had things to do that I really didn't want anyone to see, not even my allies. _Especially_ my allies. A glint of white caught my eye, and I walked over near Luccio.

"Bob!" I said with delight. "You're here!" His eyeholes flicked with familiar orange light.

"Good to see you're well enough to state the obvious…" His voice trailed off. "Oh my stars. Boss, you've grown breasts!" Bob's voice grew reverent. "This is the greatest night of my life."

"Corpsetaker stole my body, and Luccio had to kill it." I growled, then shook my head. "Anyway. Bob, I need to hide you and – other stuff – so that the Wardens don't confiscate you while I'm healing."

"Healing? From what? You got a total upgrade in the body department, Harry," Bob crowed.

"Healing from the bullet wound in my _gut_, Bob. How do I hide you from them?"

"Let me out of my skull, and it's just a skull," Bob said matter-of-factly. "Hide it somewhere they won't look for it, and they probably won't find it with magic."

"Fine," I said. The Erlking's little boost was fading, and I was too drained to care what Bob did. "You've got my permission to leave for, um, five days. See you."

I picked up his skull, turned and started walking as Bob let out a cry of delight and rushed away into the night. I had other objects of dark magic to conceal tonight. I went over to Grevane's headless body, and rifled through the pockets until I found the little black book. Then I went back to where my body had been cremated, and rooted around in the bushes for my duster. I wrapped the skull and book in the enchanted leather, along with the bit of the Erlking's horn, then stuffed the duster between a rock and the side of the building and arranged branches around it. With my link to the duster, I could find it again later. Hopefully. With all my indiscretions concealed for the time being, I stumbled back to the Sue's massive corpse and sat down beside it. Ramirez had shifted so his head was on one of Sue's massive toes.

"You've got the right idea, buddy," I murmured. I wasn't sure if I fell asleep, or just passed out.

My face felt cold as I woke up. I was laying on something comfortable, maybe a bed. I blinked a few times, and Captain Luccio came into view. She was standing over me, looking exasperated and a little worried.

"Dresden!" said Luccio, and from the tone of her voice she'd said it more than once. "You must remove the binding."

"Huh?" I said articulately. "Oh. Shiela—Lash…"

_Of course, my host,_ Lasciel said in her normal seductive murmur. I felt her feather-light touch on my magic, and the binding fell apart. The pain slammed back into my stomach, and I arched off the bed with an inarticulate cry. Luccio leaned in and set a hand on my forehead.

"Sleep," she said quietly, her magic twisting a suggestion into the words. I fell back into the dark.

I woke up slowly the next time, enjoying the soft sheets and surprising lack of pain in my stomach. Then I shifted slightly, and felt the sheets moving against unfamiliar curves. I opened my eyes. I was in my own bed. The warm glow of candlelight lit the door to the living room. I cleared my throat.

"Hello?" I shut my mouth, clenching my teeth together at the warm contralto that had replaced my own voice. I heard someone talking in the next room, and Luccio appeared in the doorway.

"Warden Dresden," she said. "Can you feel your wound?"

"Uh…no, actually," I said, reaching down to run a finger over the bandages wrapped around my midsection. "And I don't feel drugged."

"Several of the Council's healers worked on your wound. It's four in the afternoon, now." Luccio pulled over a straight-backed chair that I used as a clothes hanger, and sat down beside me.

"Well, that's nice of them," I said. "I guess the…rest…is permanent?" I waved at my new chest vaguely.

Luccio shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dresden. Without your old body, there's nothing to be done."

"Great," I said, my fingers digging into the sheets. "That's just…brilliant."

Luccio allowed me to feel sorry for myself for a few moments before speaking again.

"Dresden. The binding you used last night."

I looked away. "I wouldn't have used it, Captain. But Corpsetaker was going to shoot you in the back, and probably Ramirez as well."

"Not Donald?"

"He wouldn't turn his back on me," I said with a snort. "But he wouldn't have been able to take Cowl on his own. I'm sorry, Captain. If it had been just me at stake, I wouldn't have done it."

"As a Warden, you will be confronted with many situations where others are at risk, and you must face them while remaining a Warden. Can you do that, Dresden?" Luccio's eyes were sharp. She wanted a real answer. I had to think about it.

"Yes," I said after a moment. I'd done many things that the Council wouldn't approve of or would find suspicious, but I'd never done anything that could conceivably be black magic. Until last night, when I'd let a fallen angel staunch my wound, but hopefully that was going to be a one-off.

"Very well then." Apparently that was all Luccio needed. "The Venatori Umbrorum have some useful contacts in the American government, so your new papers and identification should arrive in a few days. What would you like your name to be?"

"My new papers. Right." I leaned back against the pillows and let out a breath. Goddamn Corpsetaker. I was going to have to rebuild my whole life. I could tell some of my friends what had happened – and wasn't that going to be fun – but as far as the normal world was concerned, Harry Dresden was dead. Did that mean that Quistus' death curse had run its course? "I'm seriously considering Thalia," I told Luccio.

"The muse of comedy?" she said with a small smile. "I was going to suggest Bellona."

"The war goddess? Wouldn't that be a joke."

"I think it entirely appropriate, Dresden." Luccio said seriously. I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'll only be using it with the straights…I guess Bellona would work. Bellona Dresden, I can be my own cousin."

"Very good." Luccio stood up. "I will inform the Venatori."

She left the room, and I leaned back into my pillows. I had a fairly intimidating to-do list. Recover Bob and Kemmler's little black book, give the book to Mavra, rebuild my life, and inform Thomas and Murphy of my impromptu sex change. But first…sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Whatever crackpot herbalists and lunatic healers Luccio had brought in to treat me, they were good at their job. The bullet wound in my gut felt like it had been acquired months ago, rather than the day before yesterday. Luccio, Morgan and Ramirez had left this morning, which meant that I was free and clear to pick up the various objects I didn't want the Wardens to see. I reclaimed the indomitable Blue Beetle from the police impound, and drove it over to the college.

Everything looked different in the daylight. I wandered over to what I thought was the right building, feeling selfconscious in my ill-fitting clothes. Ugh. I was going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe. Oh, god. I was going to have to buy _lingerie_. I decided to distract myself from that by finding my little cache of important items. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath, and focused my will. I had enchanted my duster myself, it was an item I had a strong personal connection to, and those facts meant I had a pretty solid magical link to it. I sent a pulse of power down that link, hoping to get an indication of where it was.

I'd been expecting a direction or a general area. What I got was a full 3-D image of exactly where my duster was, and where that was in relation to me. I opened my eyes and released the trace. Wow. My thaumaturgy had never been that good before, that clear and precise. On the upside, that was going to make finding things and people – my commercial stock in trade – a hell of a lot easier. On the other hand, it meant my weakened evocation was probably here to stay. Six up and half a dozen down, as Ebenezar would say. I walked around the corner along the building a little, to the rock I'd used to hide my duster, trying to blend into the light but constant traffic of college students. It was behind some bushes, under a layer of branches I had arranged a couple of days ago. I opened it up, and sorted through to check everything was still there. Bob's skull, Kemmler's Handbook of Doom, the fragment of the Erlking's horn. Yay, I'd recovered the objects that would get me executed if the Council ever found out I had them. I consoled myself with the fact that I would be passing the handbook on to someone else shortly.

I struggled off my knees with the duster cradled in my arms, and turned around to see a cop standing behind me.

"Hi," I said. I vaguely recognised the guy; I'd seen him at the station a couple of times. His name started with an R, or possibly a K.

"Good morning, ma'am," he said pleasantly. "I was just wondering if you saw anything unusual in this area on Halloween night?"

"Uh, no," I managed to say. "I was…out of the city that night. At a friend's party."

"I see. Did you misplace your coat?" He asked, still in that pleasant voice.

"Yeah. My, uh, my room-mate hid them. She's kind of a bitch that way." Oh god, I sounded like a ditzy college girl; but that was probably a good thing at the moment.

"Bad luck," the cop said with a smile. "Could I have your name, ma'am? Just for my notes?"

"Sure," I said. "Tessa Archleone." The real Tessa Archleone was a remorseless killer possessed by a fallen angel, and I was pretty sure the police didn't have her in their database.

"And do you live on campus?"

"Uh, no. I live over on Morgan Avenue. Number seventy-four. It's a share house."

"Thank you, ma'am," the cop said with a smile. "Have a nice day."

I'd just got home and stashed everything incriminating in a box in my workshop when someone knocked on my door. I scrambled up the ladder from my basement, barking my shin on steps that seemed much further apart than they had been. Swearing under my breath, I hobbled over to the door and opened it.

"Yes?" I said shortly, blinked. It was Murphy, her arm in a sling and her eyes wide with surprise.

"I'm looking for Harry," she said uncertainly. I realised what this must look like to her, a pretty young woman wearing my clothes answering the door.

"Oh, hell's bells," I muttered. "Come in, Murph. This is going to take some explaining." I stood aside to let her in, but she only glared at me.

"Who are you?" She asked, her good hand creeping under her jacket towards her shoulder holster.

I rubbed my forehead. "Well, it's complicated, but I'm Harry."

"What?"

"It's a long story, involves a necromancer – there's a dinosaur in it as well. Are you really going to make me tell it on the doorstep?"

She stood there thinking for a while, then walked inside. I shut the door and followed her over to sit on the couch.

"Prove you're Harry," she said.

"You've tried to arrest me twice," I said immediately. "The first time was because of that creep Kravos, the second was during that mess with the FBI hexenwolves and the loup-garou. Um, you went to Hawaii for a holiday with Kincaid. You, me and him cleaned out a Black Court nest recently." That was when Mavra had gotten her blackmail photos; which reminded me, I had to hand Kemmler's book over to her tonight. "Good enough?"

"What happened to you?" Murph asked, relaxing a little but not entirely convinced.

"I was fighting a necromancer named Corpsetaker," I said bluntly. "He, or she, was in this body. I shot her in the stomach, and then she switched bodies with me. She was going to backstab the Wardens I was working with, but I managed to let them know and they killed her. Unfortunately, there went my original body." I shrugged awkwardly. "And I got stuck in this one."

Murph stared at me for a long moment as I sat there looking glum. Then she burst out laughing, so hard that her leg jerked and she rolled onto her side slightly.

"This isn't funny," I growled.

Her laughter subsided into occasional giggles. "I know, Harry, it's just…I went on holiday and you turned into a _woman?_"

"It could only happen to me," I said, and sighed.

Murph wiped her face with both hands and sat up straight, her expression more serious. "So, what are you going to do?"

"The Council have some contacts, they're setting up a new identity for me. My plan was to write a will leaving everything to that identity, and have you witness it."

"New identity?" Murph raised an eyebrow. "Harriet Dresden?"

"Bellona Dresden," I corrected her. "My cousin."

"Huh." Murph sat in silence for a moment. "You have really crappy luck, Harry."

"Don't I know it."

"Have you told Thomas?"

"I haven't seen him since it happened, I think the Wardens spooked him. I'll call him later, break the bad news."

"How are you adjusting?" Murph asked, with sympathy but not pity.

"It's mostly the little things," I said, playing with a loose thread on the couch. "I'm not as tall as I should be. My legs are a different length, so I keep stumbling when I'm going up stairs. And my magic's all different. My thaumaturgy's twice as good as before, but my evocation's useless." I was vaguely aware that my voice had grown raw and angry. "I couldn't even knock over a zombie! It's just, everything's a little bit wrong."

"Hey," said Murph, touching me gently on the shoulder. I noticed she didn't have to reach up to do it. "You're going to get through it. You'll adjust."

"It's going to get worse," I said heavily. I covered her hand with my own. "I'm going to need your help."

"Of course, Harry. Whatever you need."

"Um." I looked away. "I need you to take me shopping. For, um…bras. And things." My cheeks felt warm.

"Harry, I don't know how to tell you this," Murph said seriously, leaning in. "So I'm just going to come out and say it." She paused dramatically. "You look _adorable_ when you blush." We both laughed. It felt better than crying.

Murph and I made tentative plans for both the legal and clothing situations, and she succesfully evaded my questions about what happened to her arm. After she'd gone, I called Thomas' mobile and got his answering service.

"Thomas, this is…well, this is Harry. I got in some trouble while I was trying to stop the spell, which is why I don't sound like myself. Call me. If you can't get hold of me, call Murph and she can explain. See you." I pressed hash at the end of the message, then hung up. I stood by the phone for a moment, feeling the weight of an unfamiliar body. There were things I had to do: explore the changes to my magic, work on rebuilding the apartment's wards, check on Butters, and meet Mavra to hand over the Word of Kemmler.

I did none of those things.

I found a parking spot and trudged into McAnally's pub, weaving my way between the carved pillars to the bar. I could feel every eye in the place on me. As I sat down at the bar, Mac set a beer in front of me.

"On the house, Dresden," he said in his rumbling basso, too quiet for the rest of the room to hear.

I stared at him. "How?"

"You walk the same," he said, and left to turn over a steak. Well. At least Mac wasn't treating me any different.

"Afternoon," someone said beside me. I turned. I vaguely recognised the boy sitting beside me. Sandy hair, pleasant, almost as tall as I…had been. He was smiling at me, and I gave him a cautious nod. "My name's Adam Wester. Are you new in town?"

I frowned at him for a moment. What was he…oh. _Oh._ I set my beer down on the counter, perhaps a little harder than necessary; Wester flinched. Well, maybe it was an opportunity. I contemplated his fairly attractive face, his strong shoulders, the broad hands he was resting on the bar. Nothing. Not a tingle, not even the faintest wisp of arousal. Good.

I banged my fist on the bar, still ignoring Wester, and turned to face the room.

"Alright, listen up, because I'm only going to say this once," I said, projecting my voice so it carried right to the doorway. The room fell silent. "I am Harry Dresden. You might remember that Halloween this year was a little darker than usual. Well, that was due to a certain necromancer. I had a run-in with them, they switched bodies with me. My old body was destroyed in the fight." Wester blanched, and I decided the charitable thing to do was ignore him. "Also, point of information: I've been made Chicago's resident Warden. So if you get in trouble, I'm here to help. Free of charge, even." I turned back to my beer, pointedly ignoring everyone else in the pub. I didn't want to deal with their reactions.

"So - I guess…" Wester stuttered.

"Scram, kid," I said wearily. He scrammed.

Once it got dark, I checked in with Butters at the morgue. He was recovering well, the damage more psychological than anything else. He kept glancing at the door to the lab, as if expecting something bad to come through at any moment. Understandable. A few nights ago, something had. I left after a few minutes of strained conversation. As I drove to my next appointment, I wondered whether he would recover; whether he would accept the world that he'd been shown. Was it better for him to accept the truth and live in fear, or enter denial and feel safe? Tricky question. For me, at least, ignorance had never been bliss. If Butters asked me about more, I was going to do him the courtesy of telling him what I could.

I arrived at the cemetery, and wandered through the crypts and headstones to my own grave. It stood empty, ready to receive my corpse, should luck and skill ever fail me simultaneously. A tall, dark figure was arranging flowers at the base of the marker. The evening breeze wafted the musky scent of decay into my nostrils, and I shivered. The figure turned and inclined her head slightly.

"Dresden," Mavra said with a small smile. It stretched her skin over he cheekbones, reminding me of an Incan mummy I'd once seen in a museum.

"Here," I said, and pulled the Word of Kemmler from my pocket. I tossed it to her, and she immediately opened it and began to read. I glanced at the flowers she'd brought, and sniffed, catching a familiar scent. I'd once gathered a vaseful for Elaine. "Cornflowers?" I asked Mavra. "You think that's funny?"

"You find humour in life, wizard," Mavra said without raising her eyes. "I must find it in death." She closed the little book, and slipped it away in the folds of her dress. "Our bargain is concluded."

"No," I told her. "I need to be clear. You come at me through Murph again – through _any_ of my friends – and I'll come after you. I'll track you, I'll hound you wherever you go, and I'll kill you."

"You think very highly of yourself, wizard," Mavra said, and chuckled. It sounded odd, more of a gurgling rattle.

"I know what I can do," I said to her. "I can tell the Queen of Air and Darkness that I'll be the Winter Knight – she's already asked me a couple of times, and she's holding the job open for me. I can get power from one of the Fallen, one that's already tripping over herself to help me out. I've read that book I just gave you, I know how to pull you apart with necromancy from halfway across the planet. There's really not much I can't do. It's what I _won't_ do that matters. So you won't be touching my friends again."

Mavra wasn't laughing any more. She inclined her head, and started to turn away.

"Say it," I snarled, my warm cheerleader's voice turned cold and harsh. "Tell me what you won't be doing."

Mavra inclined her head, almost a bow. "I will not touch your friends. Any further quarrels are with you only, wizard." Her voice was tight with rage, but I didn't care.

"Good. Now get out of my town." She faded away, either raising a veil or pulling that turning-into-mist Dracula crap. Whatever. I went home.

The next morning I got up early, fed and watered Mouse and Mister, and checked Bob's skull. He was still gone. I climbed back up the ladder and went to have a shower. Murph was taking me shopping later. I stripped down, and spent a few minutes staring into the cracked hand-mirror propped above my washstand. It was surreal. I kept expecting the image to stay still when I moved; it didn't feel like my reflection. I ran a hand down my side, feeling the curve of my hip and the smooth length of my thigh. I jumped up and down, my breasts moving awkwardly. They weren't large enough for the motion to be painful, but I was going to have to look into sports bras. I cupped a breast in one hand, and ran my fingers over the nipple.

_Wow. _Okay. Well, that was something to look into later. I got into the shower, for once thankful that it was cold.

_It need not be,_ a voice said in my ear. The water suddenly felt hot, the perfect temperature that you never quite get in a shower. I could feel a body pressing against my back, breasts against my shoulder blades and a chin resting in the hollow of my neck. A hand curled against my stomach, and stroked there in small circles. I shivered. Tingles ran up and down my body, heat pooled in my abdomen, and I couldn't help arching my back. It was a different kind of arousal, a slowly building tension rather than an insistent ache.

"Enough," I managed to gasp. "Get out."

_Where is the harm in pleasure, my host?_ Lasciel cooed in my ear.

"I said, get _out._" I concentrated on pushing her away, walling her out of my conscious mind. The illusion of her body against mine disappeared, as did the hot water.

"Yeah," I said to myself under the ice-cold spray, alone and still tense with desire in unfamiliar places. "That's better."

I was flicking through the shirts in my limited wardrobe when someone knocked at the door. I threw on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts that might stay on, and went to answer the door. I turned the handle, and yanked at the door; Grevane's zombies had deformed it, and it was partially stuck in the frame. I took a deep breath, set my feet, and pulled at the door again.

"Need to get that fixed," I told myself, and looked up. Thomas was standing on my doorstep, not Murphy. He was staring at me in shock. "I guess you didn't call Murph," I said, stepping aside to let him in.

"I did," he said slowly, not moving from the doorstep. "But I didn't believe her. Empty night, Harry, you're…"

"A girl, yes," I said sharply, turning away from the door and going to sit down on the couch. Thomas followed, leaning over me on the couch and staring down. "You're not scared of cooties, are you?"

"It's not that," he said slowly. "It's just…Harry, you're _short_."

"Yeah, rub it in," I grumbled.

"That's really the only change," Thomas said, dropping onto the couch next to me and patting me on the shoulder. "Same scowl, same tragic lack of fashion sense. Everyone's going to look at you and say, 'Harry Dresden, did you stop wearing platforms? Did you dye your hair? I know something's different!'"

"I get a makeover, and all you can do is insult me," I said, and sniffed. "You're an awful brother."

"Okay, that was just creepy," Thomas said, removing his hand. "Stop acting like a girl, Harry."

"I don't exactly have a choice," I snapped.

"True." Thomas scratched his chin. "I wish…I'm sorry I wasn't there to back you up. I just couldn't get there."

"Not your fault. Besides, Captain Luccio's already looking at me funny. God knows what she'd think if she saw you."

"Yeah," Thomas said, and drank some more of his beer.

"Hey. Get me one of those."

We drank beer together until Murphy showed up.

"I told you," she said to Thomas.

"I had to see it for myself," he replied. "But it's not all bad."

"Yeah?" I asked from the couch.

"You might have a better shot with the ladies, now," Thomas said with a grin. "I've got contacts, I can get you into the right clubs."

"Can we cancel the transgender comedy routine?" I asked my brother.

"Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Are you two done with the fratricidal banter?" Murphy said, eyebrows raised.

"Is it still fratricide? I mean, he's not technically my _brother_ anymore," Thomas said thoughtfully.

"Let's go," I said to Murphy, grabbing my backpack. "Before I get Old Testament on my brother's ass."

"Twelve plagues?" Murph asked curiously.

"I was thinking Cain, but sure."

Thomas saluted me with his second bottle of beer. "You girls have fun. I'm going to crash." He lay down on the couch; Mouse came over to rest his head on Thomas's stomach.

"Be back later," I said, and Thomas briefly raised an arm to wave goodbye.

The next three hours were excruciating. Murph and I sat in a Starbucks once the ordeal was over; she drank a mocha, and I tried to blot the memories out with a large milkshake. Once I had steadied my nerves, I started conversation again.

"I need your advice, Murph."

"Harry, I just spent the morning giving you advice on subjects I never thought we'd discuss."

"Bellona," I reminded her. "And I owe you for that, ower you huge, owe you more than I could possibly repay in a lifetime."

"Yes, you do," Murph said seriously. She looked tired, more mentally drained than anything else; I'd asked a lot of dumb questions. "What's your question?"

I looked around the Starbucks, and leaned forward. "It's about my…equipment."

Murph's face went totally blank, save for a faint blush. "Oh.

"Yeah. The recoil on the .44's enough to almost break my wrist now; I'm never going to hit anything with the second shot. So I was hoping you could recommend something."

"There's a gunsmith I know. I'll drop by his store on Monday."

"Thanks." I slurped the last of my milkshake, Murph drained her mocha, and we loaded the shopping into her Saturn. I was now the proud owner of two pairs of jeans, a pair of slacks, sensible button-up tops in a variety of colours, enough underwear to get me through a week, and a new leather jacket that Murph had insisted on paying for, now that my duster didn't fit me. I was all set up for life as a girl.

Yay.

*

Sort of a meandering, pointless chapter; all set-up, no punchline. Still, necessary for later on. Lasciel would not normally be as overt as she is here, but with Harry in an unfamiliar body she figured she had a shot at physically seducing him, which would have been a bit asset in eventually convincing him to take up the coin.

In folklore, cornflowers symbolise either young love, or the arrival of something new.

Also: If anyone has any idea what's up with FFN's formatting in my stories, can you tell me? I'm uploading from Word 2003, and have no idea why everything's so spaced out.


	3. Jack Or Knave

A light, fluffy chapter to fill in before Proven Guilty. Some minor edits have been made to this chapter since it was first posted.

\ /

I sat in my office chair, glared at the distance between it and the desk, and reluctantly slid it a few inches forward.

"Sorry about the mess," I said, lifting this week's mail and setting it on top of last week's mail. "Harry's pretty messy, and I haven't had a chance to tidy up yet." For the first time, the mess was demonstrably not my fault…in a certain twisted way. I inclined my head to Sonja Cormac, and did my best to look professional while wearing a deep red leather jacket. "You mentioned a problem with your students."

"Ah, yes." Sonja Cormac, Dean of Students at Chicago U, shifted in her chair. She was elegant in a navy pantsuit and delicate silver earrings, slightly out of place in the middle of my office mess. "Some of my students…well, many of them drop out over the course of semester, for one reason or another. Some of them don't bother informing us or their RA, so from our point of view they simply disappear. A few every year, that's normal." She paused.

"But something abnormal has happened," I prompted.

"Yes." She licked her lips. "Five disappearances. All their belongings gone with them. After the first few, I thought…I pulled their files. All of them are orphans. And they weren't spread out, they only started going after—"

"Halloween," I finished for her. My half-healed gut wound twinged. "Have you spoken to the police about this?"

"I tried, but," she shrugged, "There's no evidence of anything. College student drops out, takes their things with them…it doesn't shout 'kidnapping'."

"Huh." I tapped the desk as I thought. Maybe the huge necromantic ritual that had almost happened at Halloween had attracted something that was preying on students. Or maybe it had nothing to do with magic at all. "Just to clarify, Dean, you want me to find evidence that your students are being kidnapped?"

"I want you to find _them_," she said flatly. She looked more than a little desperate, as so many of my clients do. The people under her protection were disappearing, and she didn't know why. "But I don't think you can. So yes, I want you to find some evidence."

"All right. My fee is fifty dollars an hour, plus reasonable expenses. I'll need copies of their files, and if they left any possessions behind, I'll need those." I scratched my chin, then remembered that I didn't have any stubble.

"Certainly. I can get them together this afternoon. If you come by my office at five-thirty? I don't—" Cormac shook her head. "Without evidence, the Vice-Chancellor hasn't been taking me seriously – the only person who has is my assistant—"

"I do understand the meaning of the word 'confidential', Dean," I said with a small smile. "I need to make some calls, and pick up some equipment. I'll meet you at your office at five-thirty."

\ /

"Wake up, Bob," I said, and lit the candles in my lab with a murmur and application of will. "I need to talk to you."

"A little foundation wouldn't go amiss, but honestly, boss, it's your hair that's—"

"Bob." My voice was glacial, and I was a little surprised by how angry I was. "The sartorial advice wasn't funny the first time." The blue light in Bob's eyesockets flickered uncertainly.

"Uh, right. So…"

"Somebody's been kidnapping students from Chicago U." I raised my eyebrows at Bob. "Somebody…or some _thing_. Anything attracted to necromantic energy that feeds on orphans?"

"There are some Irish spirits that prefer orphans," he said immediately. "But they don't really care about lingering mojo. And everything that might, wouldn't care about parental status."

"So they were picked because no one would miss them," I concluded. "Which means someone spent some time finding out who to take. What can you do with five college students?"

"Nothing that requires virgin blood," said Bob, leering despite not having a face. "Some of the hardcore binding rituals need a death at each of the five points…most death curses are powered by death. Human sacrifice is a broad area, Harry. It's powerful stuff."

"Yeah," I breathed. I'd called Billy – who had been very casual about the change in my voice, which made me wonder if Thomas had already briefed him. The Alphas hadn't caught any unusual smells around campus, or heard anything strange, and they usually kept their ears and noses close to the ground. "Alright, let's test the new shield before I expose myself to Chicago again."

All of my magical foci had been useless after the change, designed for a different body with different magic. The shield bracelet had required the least reworking, so I had focused on that, along with a second project. I picked up the bracelet from the counter and slipped over my left hand. The silver chain wrapped around my wrist twice now, the charm-sized shields strung along it bumping against my skin. I had remade the bracelet with five different shields: iron, bronze, silver, copper, and one laboriously carved from an offcut of oak. I pushed my will into it, and the air in front of me rippled. It wasn't the flat plane of force that I had produced before, but a swirl of power designed to deflect bullets and blasts.

"Looks pretty good," Bob said grudgingly. "You've got a much more delicate touch now, Harry. Almost feminine."

"Shut it, Bob." I relaxed my will, and the shield faded. "Now the other thing."

A shield keeps you alive, but without something to hit back with it just delays the inevitable. I fastened my second project around my right wrist: a simple length of iron chain, very neo-Goth. But I had spent hours carving tiny runes into the links and building up a power structure inside the chain. I swept my right hand out and murmured "_Conligatio._" The two folders that I had concentrated on flew towards each other, slapped together, and dropped to the bench. I released my will, and they stopped quivering.

"It's the coolest thing you've ever made," Bob said reverently. "You lucked out with the body, boss. And I don't just mean—"

"Thank you, Bob," I said, lowering my arm and moving it about a bit. The bracelet still didn't feel natural the way my shield bracelet did. Bob was right. It had been a little unnerving, how quickly I had adjusted to the change in my magic; it made me worry that a certain someone might be messing with the inner workings of my mind. "Alright. Time to clandestinely meet my employer during the day in her office."

\ /

I parked the Beetle in a corner of the covered area next to the Unviersity's admin building. I sat for a moment, thinking, then put on the shoulder holster, checked the Glock, and holstered it. It was quite a contrast to my old .44, sleek and smooth where the revolver had been curved and bulky. I was still faintly concerned it would jam, but Murph had assured me that the Glock was no less reliable than a revolver. The papers for my new identity had included a concealed carry permit, which was actually quite scary when I thought about it., so I pulled on the wine-red jacket Murph had bought me to cover the holster and walked across the street to the admin building.

There was no one at the reception desk, but there was a list of room numbers and occupants so I found Cormac's office pretty easily. She was sitting at her desk, talking to a squirrelly-looking young man with wiry hair.

"Ms Dresden," said Cormac, standing up. "This is my assistant, Jackson."

"Er, hello," Jackson said nervously. He held out a file folder. "Here are the enrolment applications, room allocations and student survey responses."

"Sounds…complete," I replied, taking the folder with a grunt. I propped it on my left arm and flicked through the first few pages before tucking it under my elbow. "Did you get any personal possessions?"

"Only from one of the students." Cormac pulled a zip-lock plastic bag from unde rher desk, and handed it to me. There was a comb inside, and I grinned at seeing hair caught in it. I had somewhere to start, now. "It had fallen behind the washstand," Cormac said with a shrug.

"This will help," I said with a nod, tucking the bag into a pocket. Jackson's eyes went from me to the pocket and back; I ignored him. It was never worth explaining my methods to straights; they didn't really want to know. "I'll call you the day after tomorrow, let you know what progress I've made." I teetered on the edge of asking for the first two days in advance, but shrugged instead. "Afternoon, Dean. Jackson."

I was just entering the car park when someone called my name. I turned, reaching for a weapon, and Jackson holding a manila folder.

"Miss Dresden," he panted, jogging up to me. "Sorry, I forgot to include the academic records. Not sure how much help it will be, but…" he paused to take several deep breaths as he handed me the folder.

"Thanks," I said, puzzled, and then his hand dipped into his pocket and came out with a Taser. I tossed the two folders in my arms at him, and he took a step back, giving me time to reach for my blasting rod on reflex…which was in my lab at home, and useless even if I did have it. My new binding bracelet was cool against my wrist, and I gathered my will to freeze Jackson in his tracks. Then the Taser dug into my side, and I was shaking and falling to my knees as pain tore at my insides.

I blacked out.

\ /

I regained consciousness to the sound of two voices: one in my ears, the other in my head.

"…well what the fuck did you bring her here for?" said a strong, male voice. "We've done the job, we've paid you for your help…why didn't you just let her fucking investigate?"

_Harry, I can help you recover…please! They will soon decide to kill you!_

I would have made a witty remark about how that's what everyone decided to do eventually, but my brain wasn't really working and my entire body ached. My back ached worse than anything else, from which I deduced that I was lying face-up on a flat surface of some kind. It felt warm.

"Her name is _Dresden_," Jackson said anxiously. I couldn't tell what direction his voice was coming from. "She's related to _Harry Dresden. _You don't know about Harry Dresden? He can find anything!"

"Yeah, and now he's going to be finding his fucking cousin, who you've kidnapped!" snarled the first voice.

"Not if she disappears like the others," said Jackson. There was a long silence, which I spent trying, and failing, to open my eyes.

"Somehow I doubt you'd volunteer to do the deed," said a third voice, also male. It sounded amused, rather than panicked as both Jackson and the first voice did. "But the boy has a point. Choosing this location paid off after all…take her downstairs and pop her in the furnace."

"Pop her first?" said the first voice, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"No. The bullets won't ash," said the third voice.

"Alright," said Jackson. "I'll just—"

"You'll go nowhere," the third voice growled. "You and me need to talk about you bringing this stuff to our door."

_My host, please. Self-destruction serves no one._

_Shut up! _I snarled back.

There was pressure on my armpits, and I began to slide. I concentrated as much as I could, given the way my brain seemed to be too large for my skull, and forced my eyes open. The concrete ceiling sliding past overhead made me nauseous, and I swallowed against the urge to vomit. The man was facing me and walking backwards as he dragged me, so I could see him bobbing in and out of my vision. He was young, wearing a button-up shirt and jeans. He would fit right in on a college campus, I thought fuzzily. Except for the gun stuck through his belt…I blinked. That was _my_ gun.

The young man bent down and lifted me up a little, so I leaned against his legs as he backed down a flight of stairs, presumably to the furnace. I was desperately trying to pull my wits together, push my mind through the pain so I could disable him. We reached the bottom of the stairs, and the man swung me around and propped me against a wall. I could see the furnace, a large metal thing taking up most of the room.

"Sorry about this, miss," the man said, no real emotion in his voice. He crossed to the furnace, and began to open some kind of hatch. The room went from very warm to hot.

_Please, Harry,_ said Lasciel, sounding desperate.

"Oh, shut up," I said out loud. The man spun around and drew my gun from his belt. I gathered my will, raised my right hand and clenched it tight. The tiny runes scratched into the chain bracelet flickered into light. "_Manacus,_" I whispered, and bound the man's right hand so he couldn't pull the trigger. I could see him trying, straining against the binding. His eyes were wide, flickering from me to his hand. I didn't dare look up the stairs, it was taking all my concentration to maintain the binding. I took active control of his hand, and began to turn the gun away from me. The thought of what I was about to do made me sick, but I didn't really have a choice.

The gun was was pointing at the young man's head, and now he was desperately trying to get his finger away from the trigger, but it was a contest of will and he was no match for me. I pushed my will into the binding, using every scrap of concentration, every last shred of the self-control that I had built up in myself over years of loss and pain. The young man was tall and strong, but he had never really been hurt. He had always done the hurting.

The gunshot was shockingly loud in the room, echoing off the huge metal furnace. Blood and other fluids spattered over a good third of the room. I levered myself to my feet, using the wall as a prop, and staggered over to the man's body. I forced myself to look at him – I owed him that. I picked up my gun, and wiped it on his jeans.

_With my assistance, you could have bound him not to hurt you,_ said Lasciel, sounding vaguely reproachful.

_Shut up,_ I thought viciously. _If you really wanted to help me, you would have warned me about Jackson. I should have realised that the kidnappers had to have access to student files, there's no way you didn't know._

_If I wished to hinder you, you would not have awoken,_ she shot back.

"Of course not," I said under my breath, staring down at the man I had just forced to shoot himself. "You wanted me alive but in danger."

"Damn it, Vince," yelled the man who had said not to shoot me, "I told you not to pop her." His voice came from up the stairs, and it was getting closer.

I turned to face the stairs, and raised the Glock, braced in both hands. A man strode into the doorway, wearing slacks and a sports jacket. He saw me standing and reached for something, and I started shooting. My aim was not spectacular. Two shots spalled off the railing on the stairs, one bit into the wall beside the man, and then two struck the man in the chest and knocked him to the ground. He made gasping, spluttering sounds for a few moments, then fell silent. I trudged up the stairs, swaying between the wall and the railing.

The man in the sports jacket was definitely dead. He had been reaching for a gun in a shoulder holster. I glanced around the room, but didn't see Jackson. There were a couple of camp beds, a desk with some folders that looked a lot like the one Jackson had given me. It looked like Jackson's two acquaintances had been camping out in a University sub-basement. I saw my shoulder holster sitting on the desk, the straps cut. I scanned the room again, and flopped down on one of the camp beds. I needed to find a phone and call Murph, get them to arrest Jackson wherever he had run off to. Needed to check for leads on the kidnapping, even though I was pretty sure I had just killed them both.

I needed to stop being an idiot.

\ /

It was three days before everything was wrapped up. There had been a few bad moments, but I was a young woman and the two dead guys were toughs with significant history with the law. Self defence it was. Jackson was arrested, Jackson talked, but he didn't know anything I hadn't found out. The toughs had needed inside information on students who were orphans, but that was all he knew. One of the toughs had an e-mail address in the contacts on his phone, but it was an anonymous account.

I came home late in the afternoon on the third day, and decided to take Mouse for a walk. I had been neglecting him. Halfway around the block he paused and lifted his nose, so I raised a shield around the two of us.

"One bark for vampire, two barks for human," I whispered to him as I stared into the half-shadows along the street. He went _whuff_ three times, and then Morgan dropped his veil and was standing five feet away from me.

"Sloppy, Warden Dresden," he said drily. "What if I had meant you ill?"

"Yeah, that's a really implausible scenario," I snapped. I didn't lower the shield. "What do you want?"

Morgan smiled – bared his teeth, to be more accurate. "I bring you something you've earned, Dresden." He reached under his coat slowly, brought out an envelope and held it out to me.

"Let me guess, I could be a winner?" I dropped the shield and took the envelope, Mouse leaning comfortingly against my leg. If Morgan really wanted to kill me, he wouldn't have showed himself until I was dead. Morgan's smile grew a sliver wider.

"Your first paycheque as a Warden. Monthly." I tore the envelope open, and blinked at the cheque inside. It wasn't exactly the big bucks, but it would sure ease the strain on my budget. "I am sorry for your wounds, Dresden," Morgan went on, the smile gone. "It is not something one wishes upon a…colleague."

I stared at him. It was possibly the friendliest thing he'd ever said to me, in that it was the least suspicious or angry thing he'd ever said to me.

"Captain Luccio wished to deliver this, but a situation developed in Cyprus," said Morgan. "She asked me to enquire what blade you are most comfortable with."

I stared at him some more, before I understood what he was asked. "Oh. My Warden sword. Right. Uh, I'm not much of a swordsman. I'd probably use it more to break spells than stab people."

"Hmm." Morgan ran his eyes over me, his expression something like a foreman sizing up a new employee. "A shortsword, perhaps?"

I shrugged. "You're the expert."

"Captain Luccio is the expert," said Morgan. "I will convey your preference." He turned to go, then stopped for a moment. "Good day, Warden Dresden." And he walked on, raising the veil after a moment.

"_Ah-whruff,_" said Mouse.

"You said it, buddy," I murmured, scratching his ears. Morgan being nonconfrontational. The world was obviously about to end.

I finished Mouse's walk, and found Thomas drinking a beer on the couch. "Hey," I said shortly, taking Mouse off his leash and flopping down next to Thomas.

"Murph called," said Thomas in a bland voice. "She told me about some trouble you got into."

"Hell's bells." I leaned my head back against the couch. "I was going to tell you once it was done, and now it's done."

"I don't understand it," Thomas said, frowning. "She said there were two of them, and you shot them? What the hell happened?"

"I reached for my blasting rod, he got me with a Taser," I said shortly. "If I hadn't woken up in time, they would have tossed me in the furnace."

Thomas blinked. "You don't have a bl—oh."

"New body, but the old reflexes," I said, and sighed. There was a pile of mail on a side table; I sorted through a couple of bills to the envelope I didn't recognise. A few moments later I sneered, then blinked in confusion.

"What's that?" said Thomas, standing up to get another beer.

"Present from Marcone," I said, handing him the letter. "I guess he doesn't want me to feel hostile while I'm inside buildings he owns. Permanent reservation for me and a guest…but I've never heard of this place, the Crimson Lotus." I looked up. There were crinkles around Thomas's eyes, and he was biting his lip to keep from laughing. I stared at him for a moment, until enlightenment struck. "It's a lesbian nightclub, isn't it?"


End file.
